


I Saw The World Spin Beneath You - A Nothing's So Loud Prequel

by GlassParade



Series: Nothing's So Loud [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassParade/pseuds/GlassParade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Blaine came to be reading fairy tales at his best friend's hospital bedside. Set in the fall of 1997, this takes place a few months before the events of "Nothing's So Loud".</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw The World Spin Beneath You - A Nothing's So Loud Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: There is a description of a major character attempting to commit suicide. It's not really graphic, but it's not a ball of fun, either. This is angst, this is hurt/comfort - while it has as close to a happy ending as anything with this premise can get, it is not a wholly pleasant journey. The title is taken from the Goo Goo Dolls song "Black Balloon".

 

* * *

When his pager went off, Blaine glanced down at it, then did a double take.

It was the number of the Lima General Hospital switchboard – and 911 was appended to the end of it. That was a call from Constance, who he knew was working swing shift in the ER while Jason was safely at daycare, so what could be the emergency? He frowned down at the little digital display as if it would spontaneously provide more information.

He picked up the phone at the skate shop and dialed, thanking whoever was listening that it was a slow night. “Lima General, how may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak to Constance Anderson, please,” he replied, drumming his fingers on the counter. “She's a trauma nurse in the ER.”

“I'll connect you.” Pleasant, boring Muzak filled his ear as he waited for someone to pick up. After what seemed an eternity, the music ended.

“Blaine?” His sister's voice was shaky, and he was instantly even more worried. “Honey, you need to come down here.”

“What is it?” Now he was good and panicked. “Are you okay? Is it Jason?”

“Jason and I are fine. Get _down_ here, Blaine. Please.” A dial tone buzzed in his ear, leaving him with nothing to do but call his boss and ask permission to close up early. He couldn't help but worry. If his sister was fine and his nephew still at day care, what could be going on? His boss wanted to know the same thing.

“No, I'm sorry, family emergency...you know I wouldn't ask, Mr. Motta, but Connie said it was important. Okay. Okay. Thank you. Yes, I'll work extra shifts next weekend, I'm all yours. Yes, sir. Thank you.” Blaine tossed the receiver back into the cradle and raced to lock the shop doors, flipping the sign to 'CLOSED'. It took him three tries to accurately count out his cash register before he locked the contents into the store safe and booked it for his car, breaking every speed limit and even racing a couple of red lights before screeching into the hospital parking lot.

He managed to walk into the ER with some decorum, though it was dashed as soon as he laid eyes on his sister hugging a sobbing Judy Fabray. “Connie? Ms. F.? What...” Blaine felt his throat close up and struggled to talk past it. “What's going on?”

Judy pulled away and came over to him, and only then could Blaine see that her pink silk blouse was splotched and spattered with what looked like drying blood. A rusty handprint was clear on her shoulder, the prints of slender fingers fainter than the palm, as if whoever had laid their hand there hadn't had the strength to grip, only to rest. His vision began to swim.

“Blaine, honey,” Judy began, and her voice was rough with tears both shed and repressed. “It's Quinnie. She...oh...”

Connie moved to touch Judy's arm, and picked up the narrative with a clinical detachment that Blaine knew she was fighting harder than usual to keep in place. “Quinn and Finn had an argument after school today, Blaine. Had they been fighting a lot recently?”

“Like cats and dogs,” he confirmed numbly, having to work to force the words out. “Rachel, too. They were all so vicious to each other. I tried to help...” There went his throat again. “...she made me go. I didn't want to. She made me.” He looked from his sister to his best friend's mother, feeling the panic rise again. “She made me go. Oh, God, what did she do?”

“Blaine, she...” Connie was abruptly at a loss for words, clearly not wanting to tell him. “Quinn climbed into the bathtub and she cut her wrists open.”

When shock sent him blacking out, his last sight was of the two women reaching to catch him before he could hit the floor.

* * *

He came to in a chair, Connie sitting next to him with his hand in hers. Judy was gone. “Where's Ms. F.?” he mumbled, pushing himself to sit more upright.

“She's sitting with Quinn, now. They've finished transfusing her and stitching up her arms. She cut deep – there's a lot of physical therapy in her future.” Connie shook her head in sorrow. “Poor little girl.”

“Can I see her?” Blaine tried to stand, but his sister's grip on his arm was surprisingly firm. “Constance, please.”

“I'm sorry, Blaine. Family only, tonight.” A slashing motion cut off his protests. “When Judy says you can, then you'll be allowed. Hospital policy, honey. You know that.”

He crossed his arms and sulked. “Fine. Whatever. I'm not leaving until then, you know. I'll sleep in these stupid chairs.”

“I would expect no less from my stupid little brother.” Connie got to her feet, ruffling at his hair. “I have three more hours. I'll see if Judy will let you in before I go, okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Blaine slumped down in his chair, annoyed at how furious and impotent he felt. His first instinct was to go after Finn for being the indecisive jerk who spent two years trying to decide which girl he wanted to date. He'd pitted two teenage girls who had loathed each other since grade school against each other in the battle for his affections, and this was the price. It made Blaine grind his teeth with anger.

In the next second, he had to let the idea go. For one thing, as quarterback, Finn had a good eight inches and fifty pounds on Blaine, who had no desire to become ground chuck. For another, he knew Finn. He knew that Finn would never, ever have wished this on Quinn, and that if he knew about it he'd be right there in the ER alongside of Blaine, worried and horrified at his part in it.

He was pretty glad Finn obviously    
_didn't_   
know; if the other boy were there, Blaine would find it much more difficult to resist the urge to punch him smack in the face.

For an hour or so, Blaine zoned out and stared at the television. The Cleveland Indians were losing to the Florida Marlins in the World Series – no surprise there. Click. Headline News was talking about the trial of the English nanny accused of shaking the baby she was tending. Click. Hillary Clinton was being interviewed. Click. 'Politically Incorrect' was on Comedy Central. Click.

Nothing held his interest for long. Not when his friend was lying cut open and damaged in a hospital bed and he wasn't allowed to see her.

Blaine flipped the TV to CNN for whoever came along behind him and got to his feet, deciding to take a walk. Maybe he'd go to the gift shop and find a book to read, or he could buy something to give Quinn. It would be a feeble effort in cheering her up, he knew, but he suddenly felt that he couldn't go greet her empty-handed.

When he ambled in, he saw Finn's mom in there – he'd forgotten she was a nurse at the hospital, too. Carole Hudson looked at him and bit her lip before making a beeline to give him a hug. “Blaine, I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he replied, feeling like neither of them were saying the right thing, but what else could be said? “Um, have you told Finn?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I'm going to wait until I go home. Visiting hours will be done by then, and he can't try to come up here and steamroll Judy Fabray into letting him in. I think he'll be the last person she wants to let anywhere near her daughter.”

“I think you're right.” Blaine tried to keep the bitter edge out of his voice, but he knew Carole heard it when she hugged him again.

“Have you seen her?”

Scuffing his feet, he shook his own head. “No. I'm waiting for Ms. F. to let me. Did you see her?”

Carole took a deep breath. “When they brought her in.”

He closed his eyes. “And how did...”

“It didn't look good, Blaine.” She lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, and kept her voice soft. “But she had the best doctors in the region working on her, and they pulled her through. They think she'll be okay...if she wants to be.” Her hand squeezed down on his shoulder, trying to be reassuring, he guessed. 

“I thought I'd get her something,” he mumbled absently, glancing around the tiny shop and wishing she'd stop talking at him so he could think. What did you get your best friend when she'd done her best to hurl herself out of the world? What could make up for that?

Carole seemed to sense some of his inner conflict, because she just hugged him and told him she'd see him later. “I'm sure you'll find something nice,” she concluded before she bustled out of the shop, leaving him alone with the gum-snapping college student working the counter.

He looked around again, trying to decide what to get. Candy would be out, Quinn didn't like it. No flowers, she'd be flooded with those in a matter of days. Absolutely no jewelry, she never wore anything but her little gold crucifix and a tiny birthstone ring. And she had never been the stuffed animal type.

That left books. Blaine wandered over to the tiny selection. He'd been in this gift shop before and the selection never seemed to change. A bunch of Dean Koontz books. A couple “Oprah's Book Club” picks that he knew Quinn would roll her eyes at. Medical thrillers, which he'd always wondered about – surely it wasn't wise to put horror novels about medical clinics and hospitals in a hospital gift shop?

Tucked away in a corner bin was a small array of kid's books. There were some Babysitters' Club and Sweet Valley High for the teenage girls (and boys, he protested. He    
_loved_   
Sweet Valley High.), and some sports biographies for the boys. A few books were baby books, the soft padded kind for very small children.

And then, hidden in the back with dust on its jacket, was a slender, shiny volume. Blaine pulled it out and blew the dust off.    
_A Collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales._

“I'll take this,” Blaine announced, holding it up for the clerk to see. The bored student shrugged.

“Sure. Whatever. Fifteen bucks.”

He handed it over without protest, waved away the offer of a plastic bag, and headed back to the waiting room. Judy was there, wringing her hands as she looked around for him. The relief on her face when she spotted him was heartwrenching. “Blaine!”

“Ms. F. How is she?” He moved swiftly to stand by her and put an arm around her shoulders. She looked like she could fall over at any moment. The bloodstains on her blouse looked like she'd tried to take a damp cloth and wipe them away, but her efforts had only made them worse. Blaine wondered idly if maybe he could talk Connie into finding a spare scrub shirt for the poor woman, so he could volunteer to burn this one. He was pretty sure even the best dry cleaner wouldn't be able to save the silk.

Judy swallowed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “She's awake, a little. Groggy still. She wants to see you. I'm so glad you didn't leave.”

“I would never.” Stepping back, Blaine glanced down the hall. “What room is she in?”

“She's in the Pediatrics wing. Room 522. Do you know the way?”

“Like it's burned into my brain,” he replied, grinning weakly and holding up the book. “I bought this. I thought maybe I could read to her.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “She'll love it. Oh, Blaine. My little girl...she...”

He leaned in for one more long hug. “We'll get her through it. I'm not going to leave her side, I promise.” Tilting his head, he assessed the exhausted woman before him. “Have you eaten?” When she shook her head, Blaine gently pushed her in the direction of the cafeteria. “Go get something. Quinn and I will be here when you get back.”

Judy wandered off without another word, which spoke volumes to him as to her emotional distress. Blaine turned and headed for the staircase, thinking he could jog upstairs faster than the elevator would take him.

He arrived at Quinn's door, which was slightly ajar, letting a sliver of lamplight shine out on the hallway floor. When he pushed it open to admit himself, the sight of Quinn in the hospital bed stole breath and sense from him in one go.

She was tiny – she always had been, it had made her the perfect flyer and head cheerleader – but she looked dwarfed in the bed, more shrunken and small than he'd ever seen her. Her skin was paper white and translucent, all of her healthy athlete's glow vanished to leave behind a road map of blue veins he could trace with a fingertip. Her honey blonde hair was spread limply out over the pillowcase; heavily bandaged wrists lay atop the fleece blanket that covered her.

Quinn in the hospital bed, only barely tugged away from the brink of death, was the most heartbreaking thing Blaine had ever seen.

He had made no noise and the door hadn't creaked, but she turned her head slightly, knowing he was there. “Come in. I can't bite,” she joked weakly, trying and failing to smile.

“Quincy,” was all he could get out, he choked on anything else he could think to say. With mechanical jerkiness, he made his way into the room and dropped into the chair by her bed. Unable to grab her hand like he wanted to do, Blaine felt helpless and without direction. “Quinn.”

“I keep...telling you...quit calling me...Quincy.” Now she managed a ghost of a smile, but it dropped away as soon as it appeared. “Blaine...I did...stupid.”

“Shh. Don't,” he pleaded, reaching out to push a strand of hair from her face. “Just promise you won't do it ever, ever again, okay? You scared us so bad...Quinn, I _just_ got to come home, don't leave me.”

“It just...” She struggled against tears. “Hurt. So much.”

“You deserve better. You'll find better.” His hand lay alongside her cheek, catching the tears she couldn't hold back. “Don't do it again, Quinn. It's not worth it. He's not worth it. And you know even he wouldn't have wanted this for you.”

Slowly, with effort, she turned her head away. “Tired.”

“I know.” Blaine pulled his hand back and opened the book of fairy tales out on his lap. “I can read you to sleep, if you want.”

The faint smile ghosted across her face again. “Yes, please.”

“As you wish.” He turned to the first story, flipping pages to arrive at a glossy illustration of a princess standing by a well, looking woebegone.

“Long ago,” Blaine began, “when wishes often came true, there lived a King whose daughters were all handsome, but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun himself, who had seen everything, was bemused every time he shone over her because of her beauty...”

**Author's Note:**

> Blaine is reading from "The Frog Prince," which was the first story in my unabridged Grimm's Fairy Tales.


End file.
